Vocal Preparation and Intermediate Astrology
by AnthroQueen
Summary: To play it safe after two years of paintball, the end-of-the-year activity the Dean plans is exactly the kind of thing Jeff has always dreaded- a school-wide lock-in.


**Hello friends! In an effort to stay positive about all of the obviously negative things that are happening to Community these days, I'm going to write about it like it's my job and pretend none of this nonsense is happening hahaha. Stay positive, guys! Everything will hopefully be fine. Now, enjoy this piece of Jeff and Britta fluff, with a dash of the study group acting like complete fools thrown in!**

**I obviously don't own any of the songs I mentioned in this story, all of which include "Dream On" and "I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing" by Aerosmith, "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls, "Can You Feel the Love Tonight," "A Whole New World," "If I Didn't Have You," "YMCA," "Have You Ever" by Brandi, and "Truly, Madly, Deeply," by Savage Garden. Oh dear. Hopefully I didn't miss anything. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Vocal Preparation and Intermediate Astrology 

The gleaming, fluorescent sun is trying to make its way through the dark, billowing storm clouds, angry with rumbling thunder and crashing lightening in Jeff's nightmare and this is his first indication that something is wrong. Happiness and levity are being subdued by the maniacal anger and depression of the day. It's odd weather, he notes; something that couldn't happen in real time. He couldn't think of a time when the sun was _ever_ this bright, but he can't see it, can't take it all in because those clouds, those large grief-filled clouds, are obscuring his view and Jeff stares at this for a while before someone pokes him on the shoulder and prods him forward, weather forgotten.

He walks forward, glancing back to catch a glimpse of who's prodded him but realizes he cannot; this square-shaped board- which he later realizes is a graduation cap- is completely blocking his vision. Glancing down, he takes in the long, flowing white gown and suddenly, a stiff wind blows the charming gold tassel into his right eye. He's finally done it; he's graduating. He discovers this line is leading towards a stage where Duncan, of all people, is handing out diplomas. Excitement growing, Jeff walks a little faster and watches as the people in front of him earn their degrees. A few people until Jeff's turn arises. A handful. Two. None.

Jeff accepts his degree gleefully and continues across the stage, but just then he learns of what is on the other side. Chang, dressed as Stalin, standing beside a paper shredder. He's yanking everyone's degrees away, turning them into waste, and directing them offstage, where Dean Pelton is registering everyone for the following fall semester. Try as he might, Jeff cannot escape the line; he is forced to watch as Chang chuckles out a sarcastic, "_So_ sorry, Winger," before shredding Jeff's only proof of his time at Greendale. And when Dean Pelton greets him with an excited, "Only four more years, Jeffrey!", Jeff screams at the top of his lungs.

He awakens in a cold sweat and realizes his worst fear is being held at Greendale against his will.

Which is pretty ironic considering what Dean Pelton has planned for this year's end-of-the-year activity- a lock-in.

"What the hell is a lock-in?" Jeff asks apprehensively, already thinking back to the previous night's façade.

"Ooh, we do them every year at my church for the kids!" Shirley claps excitedly. "You lock the doors from the outside so no one can leave and then you stay up all night playing games, eating, and bonding with your peers!"

"Exactly what I was planning!" Dean Pelton shouts with glee. "How would you like to spend an evening at Greendale, complete with pizza, games, and our brand-new karaoke machine?"

"Eh, pass," Jeff shakes his head and turns to find Britta agreeing with him.

"Yeah, that sounds horrible," Britta states. "That kind of forced merriment is the reason I dropped out of high school. I'm not going to do it in college."

"I don't know, I think it sounds like fun," Annie grins. "I've only been to one sleepover in my lifetime… It didn't go very well."

"Did they cover your hand in shaving cream and tickle your face with a feather?" Abed asks eagerly. "Or did they stick your hand in a glass of warm water so that you'd pee?"

"Abed! Ew!" Annie scrunches her nose. "No, they didn't do either of those things. It doesn't matter. This'll be a fresh start! I'm in!"

"I'm in too," Shirley agrees. "Jordan and Elijah can never stop talking about all of the fun they have at theirs. It'll be so much fun to have one of my own!"

"Well you had me at karaoke," Pierce winks. "I do a great _Aerosmith_. My rendition of 'Dream On' will knock your socks off."

"I'll bet," Jeff nods and to the Dean says, "Not interested."

"Well, maybe you'll change your mind," He says softly, placing a hand on Jeff's chest. "There will also be a psychic and a pajama contest! Dean ya later!"

"Pajama contest?" Troy shouts, immediately turning to Abed. "We've got work to do."

Abed nods and the two share their handshake. "Challenge accepted."

"Well you all have fun," Jeff says. "I have absolutely no interest in partaking in this little activity. I can't think of anything worse than having to be locked in here. Ugh."

"Yeah, holding us here against our will? That's a violation of human _and_ constitutional rights," Britta exclaims and they all groan. "So you can count me out, too."

Abed glances between the two of them and asks, "Are you two declining the lock-in so you can spend time together? The last time you did this was last St. Patrick's Day and we all know how that turned out."

Annie gasps. "Are you two sleeping together again?"

The group can't figure out who looks more scandalized by this accusation- Jeff or Britta. They both sputter and stumble trying to get their denials out fast enough. "Are you crazy? No!"

"Why would you think that?"

"Maybe you should come tomorrow night anyway. Just so we can keep an eye on you," Troy eyes them curiously and Britta rolls her eyes.

"I don't need to be babysat," She scoffs. "And just for that insulting comment, I'm _definitely_ not coming."

"Yeah, _we're_ the Greendale Parents, right?" Jeff agrees. "So what we say goes, not the other way around. We're not going. End of discussion."

"All this 'we' talk," Shirley smiles. "You sound like you really are married."

Jeff and Britta share a horrified look. "Okay fine! We'll come to the stupid lock-in! Just stop talking about it already!"

"We'll," Shirley repeats gleefully. "There it is again!"

Oh, if looks could kill…

* * *

Britta Perry, unlike her younger female counterpart, had never been invited to a sleepover as a child, so in a way, this was her first slumber party, but to say she was looking forward to it was too much of an overstatement. She loves these people, she really does, but this is just too much. If they spend too much time together, their toxicity begins to seep through and they become the kinds of people they were to Todd all those months ago. At the same time, though, it _could_ be fun. She's just not exactly excited to see what kind of "pajamas" the Dean is going to wear.

She packs lightly- her days as a rallying anarchist are _so_ coming handy, mother, thank you very much- and includes a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, a tattered T-shirt, a toothbrush, and an armful of pillows and blankets. She knows this is most likely unnecessary; Abed and Troy will probably pack the entire stock of Bed, Bath, and Beyond with their necessities, but she likes to feel prepared and have extra in case someone needed it. After she's chosen her outfit for the next morning, she's shoving things back into her tornado of a closet when a few shirts fall onto her foot, strapped together with a striped skinny tie. Huh. They all belong to Jeff. She hadn't known she'd still had them.

Britta sits for a while on the edge of her bed, staring at the perfectly poised package of Jeff's belongings, now in her hands. She should return them- that's the most logical conclusion she's come to- but how? She couldn't do it tonight in front of the group; they'd think the two were sleeping together again, which they very much weren't (okay they came _this close_ after Shirley's wedding, but that's neither here nor there). In typical stalker-girlfriend fashion, Britta leans forward and brings the fabric of his shirts to her nose, delightfully surprised that they do not smell like her closet but instead of hair gel, of expensive cologne, of him. She takes a moment to relish in the memories of the previous year and then the moment is gone. And so are his shirts and tie, back into the realms of her closet.

The drive to Greendale gives her time to contemplate what's going to happen to her, to _them_, once they leave Greendale in the upcoming year. They're going to graduate and move on with their lives and Britta, just finally becoming comfortable with this group of broken, misfit people, isn't ready to part with them. They're all so confident with who they are and what they want out of life, but Britta hasn't yet reached this level of self-awareness. She likes to pretend, now that she's a declared psychology major, that she's going places too, but she's still too wary of herself to fully give in to what she's signed up for. Part of her, that small but mighty piece of her that _still_ hates herself, is still waiting for the bottom to fall out, still waiting for her to fail.

Any thoughts of failure are put aside, however, when she finally arrives at Greendale's lock-in at the same time as Jeff, who pulls his car in, sleekly, beside her own. He smirks at her; she rolls her eyes and thinks _of course_. She could have given his tie and shirts back now, if she'd known. Murphy's Law- if she had in fact brought them, she would have had an audience. Locking her car, she slings the bags of clothes, personal items and blankets over her shoulder as he smirks at her, carrying only a small cooler. She squints at him and asks, "That's all you brought?"

"Believe me, it's all I need," He says coolly, unhinging the top and showing her the contents. "I've got toothpaste in one compartment, cologne in the other. And of course, reinforcements."

Britta peers in and shoots him a skeptical look. "You brought a six-pack?"

"No, no," He corrects her, lifting the one to reveal another. "I brought two."

Britta rolls her eyes again, but this time there's a smile on her face as they begin to enter the school. "You are ridiculous. And you're going to get caught. I doubt the Dean is going to give up his 'No Alcohol on Campus' rule just because it's after hours."

Jeff scoffs pompously. "For me, he will."

Britta frowns because, she realizes, he's probably right.

When they enter the school, the first thing they hear is a cat being brutally murdered. It sounds as if someone is slicing it, Jack the Ripper style, down the middle of the body and the animal is screeching out in pain. However, when Jeff and Britta round the corner and enter the cafeteria, they find it's Garrett, crooning out a terribly out-of-key version of "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls. Dean Pelton is dancing along, but mostly everyone else is either cringing, covering their ears, or doing everything they can to exit the cafeteria.

"_So here's the story from A to Z. You wanna get with me? You better listen carefully…_"

"I can guarantee him no one will _ever_ want to get with him after this," Jeff shakes his head, then reconsiders. "Well, no one wanted to get with him before either…"

They find Shirley and Pierce in the crowd and the four decide right then and there not to take the microphone that evening, especially after witnessing Garrett's train wreck and Vicki and Fat Neil's pitchy-but-otherwise-okay performance of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" But then Annie and Abed take the stage and through their magical performance of "A Whole New World" they begin to warm up to the idea. Annie and Abed look so at home singing that song and they really get into character. Following their song, Annie kisses Abed on the cheek and skips gleefully offstage to join the rest of the study group as Troy and Abed choose a song from _Monsters Inc._

"_If I were a rich man with a million or two_," Abed begins, winking and pointing at some random girl in the audience.

"_I'd live in a penthouse_," Troy continues with his trademark grin. "_In a room with a view._"

"_And if I were handsome_-"

"No way!" Troy teases.

Abed's quick to point out his disagreement. "It could happen! _Those dreams do come true!_"

"_I wouldn't have nothin' if I didn't have you!_" They sing together and the audience eats their performance from the palms of their hands.

They decide once their performance is over that the study group needs to join them. Jeff's the first to disagree, as usual. "Uh uh. No way. I'm not making an ass out of myself in front of the entire school."

"Yeah, I did that once already," Britta brings up, shuddering at the thought and shaking her head. "No way. Not doing it again."

"Karaoke isn't really my thing," Shirley agrees. "But I'll be happy to watch whatever you choose to do!"

"Do I get to sing lead?" Pierce asks and Abed immediately takes control.

"I have a plan!" He shouts and sprints away, out of the room, and down the hall.

"Were we going to hear the rest of that plan or…?" Jeff wonders aloud, but wonders no more when Abed returns, carrying a box of costumes from the drama department. They see a headdress and a cowboy hat and immediately understand what Abed's vision is.

Moments later, they're all standing onstage, sans Abed of course, as the beginning chords to their chosen karaoke song drone through the cheap speakers. Britta, dressed as the biker, tugs on her leather jacket and adjusts the bandanna on her head and the spiked choker around her neck, rolling her eyes in annoyance. She glances at Shirley beside her, who's dressed as the policeman in a blue uniform, hat, and sunglasses, twirling her nightstick in apprehension. Annie bounces a little on the balls of her feet, dressed all in camouflage as the soldier, and nudges Pierce, dressed in blue and white and a maritime hat as the sailor. The Indian- or Native American, if you want to be politically correct- is Troy and he's toying with his headdress as Jeff, dressed completely as the cowboy, shakes his head at his companion's idiocy.

Somehow, Abed had gotten them all in these ridiculous costumes and up onstage to perform, as The Village People, their greatest hit "YMCA." It had started out as just Troy and Annie excitedly hopping around, dancing and singing to the hit. They were the only ones belting out the tune and the only ones making the obnoxious arm gestures along with the words. But then, halfway through the third verse Pierce got surprisingly into it, which triggered Shirley, and then, reluctantly, Jeff and Britta. Now, with the school clapping and singing along, the group is really getting into it as they begin to wind the song down.

"_Young man, I was once in your shoes!_" Jeff croons, feeling oddly free, oddly alive. He looks like a complete idiot, but at least he's having a good time. "_I said, I was down and out with the blues!_"

"_I felt no man cared if I were alive_," Troy takes over, flirting majorly with the girls in the front row. "_I felt the whole world was so tight…_"

"_That's when someone came up to me_," Shirley grins. "_And said, young man, take a walk up the street_."

"_There's a place there called the YMCA_," Pierce, surprisingly chipper, doesn't even screw up the words. "_They can start you back on your way_."

Annie leads the entire class in singing, "_It's fun to stay at the YMCA! It's fun to stay at the YMCA_!"

"_Young man, young man, there's no need to feel down,_" Britta, forgetting she's awful at singing, is actually loving this. "_Young man, young man, get yourself off the ground!_"

"_YMCA! It's fun to stay at the YMCA…_"

As they finish the song to thunderous applause, Britta wonders why this study group can get her to do _anything_.

* * *

As karaoke continues in the cafeteria, the pizzas are delivered and Dean Pelton nearly has a heart attack trying to figure out where to put pizza for two hundred. It's after midnight when they realize the psychic is still situated in their old anthropology classroom and Annie shrieks excitedly that they should go. Surprisingly, the line's pretty long, but after a moment Jeff discovers that any student at Greendale must want to know that their future is going to be much brighter when they leave then it is while they're still here.

He honestly has zero interest in knowing his own future, mainly because if it doesn't involve his swift return to the old law firm, he's sure he'll have a coronary. If some obstacle were to get into his way, heaven forbid, he wants no part in knowing so. But he's being a good sport tonight and part of that happens to be playing along with whatever God-forsaken nonsensical activity the group happens to stumble upon. In this case, a psychic. If it turns out to be Magnitude in a turban, however, Jeff decides he's going home. He's had enough forced merriment to last him a lifetime.

Annie goes first, of course, and comes out looking completely satisfied, albeit just a _tad_ disturbed. Troy excitedly goes next, followed by Pierce, and then Abed, Shirley having refused a turn, calling the practice "blasphemous." Britta asks if he'd like to go next, but he gestures for her to go before him, trying to put it off as long as possible. She emerges a few moments later looking scandalized and tells him, "Well it's not Garrett in a turban, so I'll give the Dean that."

Jeff smirks. Britta's read his mind, as usual. "But it's ridiculous, yeah?"

"Well, not _completely_," She shrugs. "Plausible, but probably completely erroneous."

Nodding slowly, he steps into the classroom and shuts the door behind him. Before he can even sit before the middle-aged woman, wearing a knit sweater with a cat on it (he's surprised Britta doesn't have one of these, actually) and a bohemian skirt, bejeweled with sequins and bells, she glances up through her rectangular glasses, smiles, and greets him impeccably. "Jeffrey Winger, born January fifteenth, 1978 to William and Doreen Winger. Tough upbringing, painful, father leaving at your ten-year mark following years of alcoholic and physical abuse. Lawyer. Womanizer. Failed legal career… yes?"

He doesn't mean for it to happen, but his jaw drops open. He sinks into the chair in front of her and manages to say, "I thought… I thought you were going to tell my future."

She smiles. "Before we look into the future, we must first revisit the past."

"Um, okay." Jeff responds uneasily and again, the woman grins at him.

"My name is Wren," She tells him and then outstretches her hands, palms upward, on the desk before her. "Give me your hands."

Jeff does so, albeit a bit reluctantly, but if Wren notices this she doesn't let on. Instead, she closes her eyes and whispers a few questions. "What is your favorite color?"

He stares at her but answers anyway. "Green… Does that make a difference?"

"Chicken, pork or beef?"

Jeff hesitates and then says, "Chicken."

"You've come to a fork in the road. Do you go left or right?"

"Whichever way looks safer."

Wren chuckles at this, which is a creepy sight considering her eyes are still shut tightly. "How do you know which way is north?"

Jeff pulls a face. Is this woman on _crack?_ "Um… by my GPS?"

"And lastly, if the Weather Channel predicted a tornado, what would be your first course of action?"

"I, um," Jeff stammers. "I'd… warn others?"

Wren finally opens her eyes, seemingly satisfied with his answers, but instead of letting go of his hands, she tightens her grip on them. "Your favorite color is green because it represents your envious personality. You have a hard time allowing others around you to be happy because you've never truly been happy yourself. I see a joyous occasion befalling two of your closest friends that may stir envy within you. Until you can rid yourself of your jealousy, you will never be happy for your friends. You will never be happy with yourself."

Jeff immediately wonders which two friends would possibly be entering a "joyous occasion" and panics when he realizes his jealousy would cause a problem. But before he dwells on this too long, Wren changes the subject. "You've chosen chicken out of pork and beef. Chickens overpopulate and are common and easy to obtain. Because of this, the chicken we purchase and consume is cheaply priced and therefore represents your inability to work towards a better tomorrow. You take the easy way out of things and refuse to put in the effort to assert yourself in tough situations. I predict your therapeutic sessions will focus too much on issues of the present to dwell on those of the past and this could cause a problem for the future."

"Your inability to choose right or left on my metaphorical fork in the road represents the current dilemma you face in your romantic life," Wren continues. "I understand there are two women that both play important roles in your life and you have had romantic encounters with each of them. Your inability to choose between them has caused disruption in all of your lives, and soon, the choice will be taken from your hands. One of those very women is one of the two friends I have mentioned earlier; they will be celebrating a joyous occasion with one of your other friends and unless you rid yourself of any jealousy you may be harboring, you will never be happy. I also see that dabbling in between these two and never choosing will only lead to a lifetime of romantic confusion and failure."

Jeff gulps guiltily as Wren begins to finish her prediction. "The reason you don't know which way north is, is because you have neither spiritual nor parental guidance. Your lack of understanding about the world and its strengths and weaknesses causes a lackadaisical stumbling of oneself in which I fear you may never leave. However, in the near future, three, maybe four years from now, you and a special someone will enter into an institution of lifetime happiness, through which you will finally understand your self-worth and will no longer question why you are the way you are."

"And finally," Wren concludes. "The fact that you would warn others instead of saving yourself from a storm means that you have learned to think of others before yourself, which is a wonderful, selfless thing to learn. It also represents that you weather troublesome times with the support of your peers, which will come in handy, I see, in the very near future. A dark figure from your past is reemerging and to make it through the encounter, you must count on the support of your friends to get you through- no, I see a few people in particular making the solid efforts to help you through this difficult time. And it will be most difficult, but a necessary occurrence if you would like to lead a full life. The happening will present itself to you as an option, but do not treat it as one. If you choose to leave, you may never return. But if you stay, you may never leave."

Finally, she lets his hands rest against the desk and places hers in her lap. Jeff stares, wide-eyed, at her, whispers, "Thank you," and leaves the room.

The rest of the study group is still waiting in the hall, some of them talking animatedly, others yawning against the wall, and it's Troy who notices Jeff first. "What's wrong, man? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"I told you this is a blasphemous activity," Shirley shakes her head. "Useless hippies forcing nonsense into our heads. As long as we have faith in the Good Lord, everything will turn out fine."

Jeff shakes his head. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Annie asks, concerned. "You do look a little pale."

"I'm _fine_," He stresses and the group leaves him alone.

They pass a bunch of kids passed out in the hallway as they make their way to the study room, or, as it would be tonight, their bedroom. It's a little after two a.m. when they've finally rearranged the furniture so their sleeping areas will fit. No one's shocked when Troy and Abed wheel their bunk beds into the room, but everyone _is_ shocked when Pierce pulls out a giant air mattress, complete with a down comforter, four pillows, and satin sheets. Of course. Shirley takes the couch (but not before covering them with about ten blankets and sheets, muttering about not knowing what kind of crap the couch was covered in), which leaves Jeff, Britta, and Annie on the floor, the latter in an adorably frilly sleeping bag, with a puffy, fluffy pillow and a fleece throw. Britta's brought enough pillows and blankets for twenty people, citing she's used to supplying the people at her rallies with them. Jeff hasn't brought anything.

They talk and play Truth or Dare (which really becomes Truth or Double Truth, because no one feels like getting out of bed to do anything at three-thirty in the morning) until well into the night until finally, one by one, they fall asleep. Pierce's lumberjack snores sound first and when none of them can do anything to drown them out, it's Annie to the rescue with her iPod touch and portable speakers. She turns on her lullaby playlist, the one she made for the kids she babysits, and soon, soothing songs and old 90s hits are filling the room. The golden trio, Abed/Annie/Troy, soon fall asleep and then, Jeff realizes, he's the only one still lying awake. That is, until he hears a bunch of tossing and turning from the other side of the room.

"Britta," He whispers. "You still awake?"

"Yeah," She answers and then mumbles a bunch of words he can't make out over the sea of Pierce's snoring and Aerosmith's "I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing" blasting through Annie's speakers.

"What?" He calls back and again there's more mumbling. Jeff rolls his eyes. "Come _here_."

There's a faint rustle of blankets before he sees her, dimly, get up and cross the room to sit beside him. "I _said_ I know this is a sleepover, but I thought people didn't actually sleep at those."

"You thought?"

She shrugs. "I've never been to one."

"Depressing," Jeff pokes her. "Well they're not that great if you couldn't tell from tonight. Luckily, I brought a few things to spice it up a bit."

He reaches beside him and unhinges the cooler, grabbing two beers and passing one to her. She shoots him a look he can barely see in the darkened study room. "I _just_ brushed my teeth."

"That was like two hours ago," Jeff disagrees and pops the cap off of his. "Bottoms up."

She rolls her eyes, but follows suit. "Whatever. Might as well. There's no way I could sleep anyway. It's a million degrees in here."

"Says the woman who brought fifty blankets," Jeff says. "It's actually kind of cold over here by the radiator."

"Oh, are you cold?" She asks, immediately getting up and returning to where she'd made her makeshift bed. "Hang on."

"No, I'm good." He tells her but she returns with everything in her possession.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to let you freeze." Britta repositions herself, this time with half of the blankets as she makes a new bed beside him, offering him the remaining blankets and waiting for him to do the same. When he does and they're settled again, she says, "So… How about this music Annie's got?"

Jeff smirks. "It's complete shit. She's got the _worst_ taste. Even worse than you."

They listen for a while- _Have you ever loved somebody so much it makes you cry? Have you ever needed someone so bad you can't sleep at night? Have you ever tried to say the words but they don't come out right? Have you ever… Have you ever?_ - before Jeff suggests a drinking game. "I Never?"

Britta takes another sip of beer, shrugging. "Why not?"

"I'll go first," He says and starts with, "I never publically professed my pretend love for someone at a school dance."

Britta rolls her eyes and takes a drink. "You did it in a classroom. What's the difference? I never cried at a puppet show."

Horrified, Jeff takes a drink and then hisses, "We promised _never_ to bring that up again!"

She only laughs and he says, "_Anyway_. I never traveled abroad."

"Pity," Britta says after drinking. "I never exploited the legal system for profit."

He laughs, now, drinks, and says, "Pity. I never did porn."

It's Britta's turn to look horrified. "Me either!"

"Okay, good to know," He winks and she scoffs.

"I never stole anything."

Guiltily, Jeff takes a swig from the beer bottle. "It was a pack of scented markers and I was eight. Sue me. I've never cross dressed."

Britta takes a drink and Jeff has to stifle laughter in hopes of not awakening their friends. "You're shitting me. Really?"

"Listen, my anarchist friend Noelle and I wanted to know if we would get picked up if we dressed as guys and went to a gay bar," Britta defends.

Jeff is near tears with laughter. "Oh my _God_. Did you?"

Britta hesitates. "…I'd rather not say."

"You are one of a kind, Perry," Jeff sighs. "I cannot even believe you did that."

"I was a little wild in my younger days," She says wistfully. "Um… I never… have eaten exotic meat."

Jeff shoots her an odd glance. "That's _really_ random. I've had alligator before in Florida, if that counts."

"That counts," She insists, so Jeff downs another gulp of beer.

The game goes on like this for quite some time, with the two of them getting increasingly tipsier as time drones on. After a while, they run out of questions and begin to ask things they know the other's done just to make them drink. Mature, right? Finally, they even run out of those, so Jeff asks one he's sure he already know the answer to. "I've never been married."

But he's wrong. Britta sighs heavily and then takes a long drink. Jeff's wide-eyed with shock as Britta slurs, "I was young and I was stupid and it lasted four months. We got married in Atlantic City and my maid of honor showed up drunk and then threw up on my dress. I found out later she was sleeping with him the whole time. She was supposed to be my best friend… That whore."

Jeff's staring at her. "You're lying."

But she shakes her head, insistent. "His name was Austin. He was twenty-seven, I was twenty-four. We met in Kenya, building that school I told you about. Blade was the one who helped me out of it, actually. Turns out he was bad news too!"

A year's worth of sleeping with Britta Perry had taught Jeff quite a lot about her. She isn't very organized nor orderly with her cleanliness habits, but she is OCD about her sleeping patterns- she has to sleep on the left side of the bed, on her stomach, with the fan on. She bites her lip when she's concentrating on something, twists her hair between her fingers when she's bored, and executes an _awful_ silent treatment when she's angry. Her cats are the most important things in the world to her and her favorite color is blue, which is why her entire apartment is filled to the brim with cat paraphernalia and everything is doused in a cool sapphire. She thinks Saturday nights are lonely (which is why a lot of their hookups happened on weekends) and doesn't speak to anyone from her family. She's allergic to peaches and oranges, never wears the color pink, and isn't a very good baker, but makes the best autumn salad anyone's ever tasted.

All of these things he learned within a year of kind-of dating her and he never learned she was_ married_.

"Wow…" Jeff says, still in complete suspended shock. "I… I didn't know that."

"I know," She replies quietly, then tosses her empty bottles in the nearby trash bin and hops up. "I'm bored. Want to go for a walk?"

Wordlessly he nods, following her out of the library and leaving their slumbering friends behind.

* * *

Britta loses track of the time once they've left the library; all she knows is morning must be near because when they finally find an empty classroom, the sky is a clear periwinkle, no longer an omniscient black glittering with stars. They flop into the abandoned desks and stare out at the full parking lot; they circled the school three times on their walk checking to see if all the exits were really locked and, to their chagrin, they honestly were. Now, they've run out of things to talk about after Jeff's grilled her about every last detail of her short-lived marriage and then, when he felt bad about it for a split second, he'd tried to make her feel better by telling her it lasted longer than Kim Kardashian's.

That had made her feel better, actually.

The buzz they'd gained from their spirited drinking game is wearing off and the drowsiness is setting in. Britta could feel sleep trying to overcome her body; her limbs grew heavy, her eyelids drooped, her breathing slowed. In an effort to stay awake and not be the first to fall asleep (hey what do you know, this is a competition too), she nudges Jeff and asks, "Hey, what happened tonight with you and the psychic? You looked like someone told you you'd have to stay here ten more years."

Jeff sighs heavily and responds, "She doesn't know _anything_."

"Really?" Britta says doubtfully. "Because she knew my birth date, my parents' names, why I dropped out of high school-"

"Okay, she knew _everything_," Jeff amends. "It was weird. She asked me all of these ridiculous questions that I thought had no substance, but the way I answered them revealed things about myself that I didn't even know."

"Psh, she doesn't sound like a psychic, she sounds like a therapist," Britta scoffs and then brightens. "I should use that tactic!"

Ignoring this, Jeff tells her, "She told me that I would be jealous of two friends' joyous occasion, that I had to make a romantic decision before the choice was out of my hands, and that a 'dark figure' from my past is going to reemerge in the very near future."

Now Britta looks concerned. "Which two friends?"

"That's what you got out of that?" Jeff asks incredulously. "That's hardly the part I'm stuck on!"

"Maybe it has to do with you being jealous of Annie and Abed," Britta thinks aloud. "They _have_ been getting awfully close lately."

"As have you and Troy," Jeff states and is quick to add, "Not that I'm _jealous_ or anything."

But his tone says otherwise. Britta sighs. "So… I'm assuming the dark figure in your past is your father. I knew he'd come into play eventually."

"I know," Jeff says. "And I'm supposed to get through it with 'the support of my peers.' Whatever the hell that means."

"It means we're going to be here for you, no matter what happens," She assures him. "Me, Shirley, Annie-"

"Yes, which brings us to the next point," He rolls his eyes. "Making a romantic decision; I'm assuming she means between you and Annie. I don't _want_ to be in a relationship!"

"Neither do I!" Britta insists. "You think I'm poring over the pages of eHarmony at night, looking for 'the one'?"

"No! Just like I'm not in some committed relationship, because I don't give a shit," Jeff tells her, growing agitated. "God, things were _so_ much easier last year when you and I were just sleeping together. Why can't _everyone_ just be casual?"

"I don't know," Britta agrees. "But things were _so_ simple. I kind of miss it. You know, things being simple."

"I do too," He says, glancing over at her. "I miss it _a lot_."

The way it happens is just kind of sudden; one moment they're comparing stories and sharing their favorite moments from the previous year and the next, they're making out like teenagers hiding their romance from their parents. It's no longer a habit, as it was last year when they hooked up any chance they got, but now it's much more of an unspoken understanding. They know each other so well and understand the most trivial things about the other that, when combined with this need, this urge, this _desire_, it is completely unstoppable. This abandoned classroom becomes the first place they broke their agreement to stop sleeping together- but it isn't the last.

It's exactly how they both remember it and at the same time it's thrillingly different because it's been nearly a year since their last time. Not a beat is missed, not a moment is wasted; he still remembers exactly how to make her moan with desire and she knows, delightfully, which way to move to make his eyes roll into the back of his head. The salty sheen of sweat covering both their bodies combines in a delicious concoction of want, of need, of lust, and of desire. There's something about Jeff, Britta decides, as they finish but don't stop kissing, something about his biting, snarky personality or his rare vulnerable side, that makes her inextricably attached to him and for all of the reasons in the world she can't explain, she can't seem to forget him, no matter how many guys she throws in their path.

When they finally get up and scramble around re-dressing, Britta points out the window and together, they watch the bright orange sun as it rises into the pinks and early blues of the morning sky. There's something strangely romantic in it and also in the way they amble back to the study room, feeling disgusting but also oddly happy as they climb into their makeshift beds once more and decide now, at six-thirty in the morning, that it's a suitable hour to go to sleep. Pierce is stirring at one end of the room, Abed is mumbling something in his sleep, and now it's Troy who's snoring. In the background, Annie's iPod is still singing sappy love ballads to a slumbering audience:

"_I want to stand with you on a mountain. I want to bathe with you in the sea. I want to lay like this forever. Until the sky falls down on me…_"

Britta glances at Jeff and he looks right back and she thinks that maybe, this doesn't sound half bad after all.


End file.
